Brains of a rocking horse.
Leading you to the petrol tank.
Drink in the bad day.
A trash can Sinatra hue.
Sinks you.
Murmering your life,
for a dollar quart.
Tell the world everything.
Christ. If only there were company.
There might even be a broken heart.
But you will shadow the sun,
of all those tomorrow mornings.
And stone the crows.
If they bothered to show up.
